


Big Love

by tigerlady (shetiger)



Category: Sanctuary (TV)
Genre: Cultural Differences, Different relationship style, F/M, M/M, Pon Farr, chosen family, cross-species
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-03-30
Updated: 2011-03-30
Packaged: 2017-10-17 09:46:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,690
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/175520
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shetiger/pseuds/tigerlady
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>What's <b>your</b> curse?</i>
</p><p>The Lazarus virus and its cure leaves the Big Guy dealing with his own physiology at a very inconvenient time. He'd rather ignore it completely, thank you very much--but Henry's not about to let that happen.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Big Love

**Author's Note:**

> Set in and around Pavor Nocturnus, but with some spoilers through Vigilante. Thank you to kageygirl for betaing. <3

The cup and saucer left his hand without any measure of grace, the china clacking hard enough against the narrow strip of polished cherry above the blotter that a good thimbleful of liquid splashed over the edge. He huffed in annoyance before carefully wiping away the tea that the saucer hadn't contained--and still Helen did not look up.

She had been absorbed in this project for nearly a week now, poring over satellite images alongside texts older than she was, books full of pages that smelled of must and--so diluted by time he wasn't sure if it was more than his imagination--a rich, tropical loam. At first, he had been glad of this new undertaking. Anything to get her moving forward, away from the parts of her psyche that still clung to the conviction that Ashley was out there, somewhere. Now, though...

Helen smoothed her fingers across the glossy satellite image, tracing a shape through the unrelenting green. Her scent held no deception--just the ever-present grief that was as much a part of her as lavender soap and oil of bergamot--but he couldn't shake the feeling that she was hiding something from him.

He tried to look for clues, the way he knew that young Will did, those Sherlock eyes pulling puzzle pieces from candy wrappers and ink stains. But all he saw was the furrow between her eyebrows that never grew deeper, no matter how strongly her emotions tried to etch her skin, and the ragged bit of flesh on her bottom lip that had given way to the worry of her teeth. Things he already knew, and could do nothing about. A lock of her hair had freed itself from the rest to dangle precipitously close to her cheek. He longed to reach out and brush it back, stroke it and her pain away from her face, but that was not for him to do so. It wasn't his place, even when--

He sucked in breath as realization hit him, and Helen looked up.

"Was there something more, old friend?"

He jutted his chin towards the map under her hand. "Are you planning to go there? Wherever that is?"

"Honduras." Her lips spread with a brief, acknowledging smile--and there. Something else colored her scent, but it was too faint, too brief for him to pin it down. His nostrils were too stuffed with her musk for him to read her well. Shame was surely pouring from his own body; but thankfully, as always, she was as nose-blind as an ordinary human.

"And perhaps," she added after a prolonged beat. She leaned back in her chair, rolling her shoulders back against its surface, and he forced his gaze downward, to the steps of a ziggurat carefully etched onto a page of one of the tomes, before his eyes could betray themselves on the swell of her breasts. "I believe I've located the temple I'm looking for, but I want to cross-reference these images with some geographical surveys from earlier in the century."

He nodded. "What's in the temple?"

She hesitated. He wanted to press forward, pressure that moment in time to spill its secrets, but that wasn't how it worked between them. "I am uncertain," she said, gracing him with a closed-lip smile. "Very likely nothing, but it has been a pet theory of mine for some time, and, well. Will _has_ been pushing me to indulge in something purely for myself."

"I thought he was just saying that to get me to make that chocolate torte you both love."

Helen laughed, softly but delightedly, and he huffed his pleasure back at her. "I wouldn't say no to that, either. But do hold off for a few days."

"You want me to make travel arrangements?"

She shook her head. "I'll handle it once I've made my final decision. But thank you." The lines at the corners of her eyes lifted, brightening her gaze as she looked up at him. It was her eyes that always got to him, the warm blue that was not confined to her kind, nor his. He let out a heavier breath than he intended, and her gaze narrowed. "Is something wrong?"

In that moment, he wanted to confess. Wanted to let her help him, as she had always done. But he held his tongue, all too aware that couldn't be an option. Not when she was still mourning so deeply.

"Are you going to take someone with you?" he asked at last. "Will, or Kate?" _Or Henry_ , but his mouth betrayed him, refusing to offer him up to her notice.

Helen shook her head. "I don't believe it will be necessary." She leveled an affectionate glare at him. "And didn't I tell you that all this doting made my teeth itch?"

"Once or twice," he said dryly, then acquiesced to her shooing hand. Truthfully, it was a relief to be outside her office, to be beyond her presence. He leaned his head back against the wall behind him, taking a moment to get his thoughts in order.

It was too soon. He had another year, year and a half, before the time should be upon him. It had never come early before--but perhaps the Lazarus virus had affected him more than he had realized. That, or Tesla's foul cure.

Or perhaps he had never really taken the antigen, and he was still lost to the disease's madness.

He pushed away from the wall and sought out the mirror not far from him. He brushed the hair away from his right ear and turned his head slightly to the side. It was not his imagination. The scent glands there were swollen, flush with blood. He dropped his hair back down, and just that light touch against his skin was enough to send a shudder up his spine.

A phrase he was more used to hearing from Henry's mouth flew out of his own.

"This is _so_ not good."

*****

 _"Let me help you."_ Her eyes are nothing but kindness as she covers his hand with hers. "I know this is not what you would choose if circumstances were different. But there is no reason for you to suffer so."

There are more words between them, refusals that finally give way under the heat of her hand. "You will always know who you are. Where you come from. This is not a compromise."

Then she is close, warm and soft and smelling of home in a way he'd never thought to have again. His pulse is racing and his breath is harsh in his nose, in his throat, his body controlled not by his mind, but by another's touch.

He marvels at the large hands that hold his body, the strength in them that is nearly a match to his own. He rolls over, seeking more, rubbing his face against a bearded cheek, seeking out the scent he knows better than his own.

Warm, pale eyes and a gentle, laughing smile meet his gaze.

He wakes.

*****

Usually, he enjoyed preparing the meals for the residents of the Sanctuary. Helen Magnus was a woman who was far more likely to acquiesce to the evils of modernization when it best served those under her care, rather than herself or those in her employ. Thus, while the smaller family kitchen that served the main house had a quaintness to it that created a homey feel, it was the industrial space several floors below that held the true culinary wonders. Vast freezer and refrigeration units alongside a seemingly infinite pantry. Massive mixers that nearly reached his shoulder. Steam baths and a quick-freeze unit and a pastry torch that made him laugh with pleasure the first time he'd used it. Everything in brushed steel and white enamel, all gleaming and efficient in a way that would have appalled not just Helen, but his own kind, as well. But those modernities made his work easy, even a joy on most days.

Not today.

Today, the constant hum and roar of the equipment made his ears ring and his head ache. His hands were clumsy--he'd already nicked his index finger twice--and his movements stiff and slow, a result of too much blood being sent elsewhere in his body. And the food itself... He'd prepared the herbivore meals first, and that hadn't caused him much difficulty. Unfortunately, the same couldn't be said for the piscivores.

His people were forest dwellers. He'd learned to enjoy ocean fish since he'd come to live in Old City, but his nose didn't want to remember that right now. Pine and cedar, mossy earth, hoofed beasts and their predators--these were the smells that were natural to him. He'd eaten mountain trout on occasion, before, but its clean taste was nothing like the miasma of brine that had him turning and trying not retch when he lifted the lid of the crab crate.

The nausea was bad, but not bad enough to keep him from his task. The worst part, really, was the way those fishy smells muffled the world around him. He couldn't sense a damn thing. Anyone could be standing behind him right now, and he wouldn't know it.

He sliced off another filet from the salmon under his hands before giving into his paranoia. He turned his head slowly--and jumped, twisting to land so he was facing this new opponent. His heart hadn't even fully accelerated by the time he realized he hadn't been snuck up on by some armed intruder--or worse: Henry.

"Easy, Big Guy! I thought the teeth-baring was a little extreme, but I'll take that over being gutted and served for dinner any day."

He blew out a breath, then dropped his hand to his side. "Sorry," he said, setting the knife down on the counter. "You startled me."

"Yeah, I kinda got that," Will said, cheek twitching with what might have been an attempt to hide a smile. "That doesn't usually happen. Everything okay?"

He shrugged. "It's difficult to smell anything but fish."

Will wrinkled his nose. "I hear that."

He waited, but Will did nothing but stuff his hands into the front pocket of his jeans.

"Did you need something?" he finally asked.

Will shrugged, still with his hands in his pockets. It made him look even younger than his actual years. Deceptively so, especially paired with the nonchalant way he twisted his lips before speaking. "Not really. It's just that we haven't talked much. Not since..." He waved his hand indeterminately through the air. "The whole thing with the Cabal."

He grunted. "We did not talk much _before_ the whole thing with the Cabal."

Will wrinkled his nose again, differently than he had in response to the fish. More like his thoughts were dragging his face upwards, rather than his nose was retreating from a scent. "Fair point. The thing is, I don't really know if talking's your thing."

"I talk."

Will grinned. "Yeah, I know. That's... Okay, let me try to explain. One of the first things Magnus taught me when I got here was to look beyond the abnormality. To see what was, for lack of a better word, human in everyone."

He nodded. "As you did with the boy. Alexei."

"Right." Will paused, seeming to look for the right words, so he turned back to cleaning the salmon. The sooner he was done with it, the sooner he could get away from it, get cleaned up. Will followed his lead easily enough, circling the counter so that they stood opposite each other once again. "What she said, and then how well it went with Alexei...I guess you could say it was one of those lightbulb moments for me. It would have been easy for me to use that as my guiding principle forever. But you know Magnus."

He looked up at that. "She has had more lessons for you, undoubtedly."

Will nodded. "One of the biggest is that abnormals don't think like humans do. Their culture is different, their physiology is different, and it's incredibly humanocentric to expect them to be just like us."

He snorted, then tossed the remains of the salmon into the osseomonger's pail before grabbing the next fish from the tub.

"What I'm saying is that, for humans, it can be incredibly helpful to talk about things that are bothering them, especially after traumatic events. But sometimes they're resistant to doing so, for various reasons." Will put his hands down on the edge of the counter, carefully out of range of the fish juice, and leaned forward. "I don't know if that's what's happening with you, or if I'm ascribing human motivations where there aren't any."

"You are not." He took a deep breath, ignoring the way his eyes watered at the increased stench. "I talk to Magnus when I need to. Or when she needs me to."

Something flashed through Will's eyes, but he could not name it, not without the surety of an accompanying scent. "That's good," Will said. "As long as you feel you can talk to her about whatever you need to."

He looked up as the purpose behind Will's careful questions became clear to him. "You think I'm not processing Ashley's death."

Will shrugged. "I don't know. I don't know what might be bothering you. But you haven't seemed quite yourself lately, Big Guy, and I'm concerned."

"You are kind." He dumped the scraps of the final salmon into the osseomonger's pail, then stripped the plastic gloves off of his hand. There were two servings of krill still to be measured out, but right now, he needed clean water on his skin. "But there is no reason to be."

"Isn't there?" Will didn't follow him to the sink, but his words had no such compunction. "You keep your head down, you hide out in your room when you're not working, I haven't seen you smack anybody in days--and I know for a fact you've been avoiding Henry."

He closed his eyes. It was a lucky thing that Helen was gone; her eyes might not be as sharp as Will's, but they were sharp enough, and she knew him better. "I have been busy," he said. "There is much to do when Magnus is away."

Will sighed. "I'm pretty sure that's either your way of saying I should mind my own business, or that I'm not pulling my weight around here."

He snorted. "Your words, not mine."

"Right." Will shifted behind him. A hand landed on his shoulder for a brief moment, dropping away as Will moved away again. "I'll just go see about killing two birds with one stone, then."

His ears had no problem tracking Will's receding footsteps, soft though they were; at least that sense was unaffected by his condition. He intended to wait until Will left, and then resume his work--but at the last second, something compelled him to call out.

"Will."

Those soft steps paused. He heard a light creak from the doorway, as if Will was resting his hand upon it. He didn't turn around to see. "Henry. Is he..." His courage failed him, then, the rest of his words stuck in the thickness of his throat.

"He's concerned," Will answered anyway. "Not angry. Well, maybe a little, but just because he doesn't understand why you're avoiding him."

There was no answer he could give. He nodded, and after another moment, Will moved on, footfalls growing more distant until the only sound he could be sure of was his own pulse, beating too loud and strong in his ears.

*****

He raised his head, mouth dropping open slightly as his nostrils quivered in response to a smell much stronger, much more appealing, than lemon Pledge. He grabbed up the can and his dust rag and lunged away from the desk--but Henry was already at the door, blocking his escape.

"Wow. You are a tough guy to pin down when you don't wanna be," Henry said, crossing his arms and leaning against the door frame. "Too bad you let yourself get cornered in here."

He grunted. "You think you can stop me from leaving?"

"Dude." Henry dropped his arms. "You really don't want to be around me, do you? That's cold, man."

He sighed. "That is not true. I have simply been...busy."

"Busy running away, you mean." Henry pushed off of the door frame, gliding forward. His scent was overwhelming. He took a quick step back, putting Will's desk between him and Henry--and Henry stopped. "Yeah, thought so."

"It has nothing to do with you."

Henry smiled, but he did not smell happy at all. He craned his head around, making a show of studying the psychology books on the shelves surrounding them. "I guess I need to get Will to test my I.Q, because you obviously think it's gone into the crapper."

They stared at each other for a long moment. He couldn't keep his gaze from wandering away from Henry's pain-filled eyes, though. Henry's hair had gotten longer in the last few months. Long enough to curl. Long enough for fingers to find purchase.

He shook his head briskly, trying to shake away the fog that was overtaking his brain. It helped--a little. "I don't think you're stupid," he said finally. "Maybe I have been avoiding you. But it has nothing to do with you. It is...personal."

Henry rocked forward, tipping up on the balls of his feet, his tongue pressing forward as well, against the back of his teeth. He looked like he was going to strike out, or call him out on the lie, but the he dropped back down and let out a gusting breath.

"Fine," Henry said. "I get that you don't want to talk about it. And I get that I'm not your first choice when it comes to this kind of thing. But Dr. Magnus isn't here, and I am."

A howl of alarm arose from deep within his chest, but he choked it back. Henry had no idea what he was saying. "Your concern is appreciated."

Henry rolled his eyes. "I don't want my 'concern' to be 'appreciated'. I want to help you."

"You cannot."

"If you'd just give me a chance," Henry said, taking a step forward with his hand outstretched.

He panicked. He used the only weapon at hand, shooting a mist of Pledge straight up into the air between them. It wasn't enough to completely mask Henry's scent to him, but it made his eyes water. Henry started coughing.

"Dude," Henry gasped out between coughs. "That's just nasty."

"Sorry."

"Don't tell me. Your finger slipped?" Henry shook his head, then held up both hands as in surrender as he started walking backwards. "Don't bother. I get the picture."

The need to call out, to stop Henry before he turned away was almost overwhelming. But the knowledge of what would happen if he did gave him the strength to hold back his tongue.

His control didn't extend to the can of Pledge. He hurled it, nodding at the satisfying thunk it made against the plasterboard. It left a small dent, a slight tear in the wallpaper. Just one more thing on the list of things he'd have to repair.

*****

She giggles when he presses his face into the bare flesh of her armpit, left unshaven and unmasked for him and him alone. He is fully aroused and ready, but not urgently so. All he wants is to rub his face across her skin until she laughs herself boneless beneath him.

He rubs his face against hairy skin, across the broad chest beneath him, until those chuckles turn to rumbles of pleasure. "Yeah, Big Guy," Henry gasps, strong hand pressing his head closer. "Just like that."

He wakes when he comes.

*****

The Sanctuary greenhouses were at the rear of the complex, in a small strip of land bordered by the river, the garage, and the entrance to the SHU. The space wasn't really large enough to supply all the vegetation that the residents required on a regular basis, which was why they contracted through other suppliers for the more rare and delicate species. Although, perhaps it was a good thing that room was limited; he spent enough time out here as it was. If he had to babysit a cranky vampire orchid through its entire reproductive cycle, he'd never have the chance to catch up on his shows.

"Oh, damn! Is that a Jupiter flytrap? Those things are--" Kate looked up in time to catch his glare. She glared back. "--wicked cool," she finished, like he didn't know she knew exactly how expensive they were on the market, black or otherwise.

He huffed his annoyance, though he didn't bother to chide her. It wasn't worth his time. "Dr. Magnus is experimenting with using the digestive enzymes it produces to debride necrotic tissue with better results than traditional methods."

"Yeah, okay. Gross." She shook her head and reached out like she was going to pet the cobra lily beside it. He slapped her hand away before she made contact. "Ow! Take it easy, Big Guy. It's not going to eat me, you know."

"No touching. It's a cross-contamination risk." She pouted at him, but he simply pushed the fly tank at her. "Concentrate on what you're supposed to be learning, and this will go much faster."

"Jeez! If I knew I'd be taking lessons from Snape, I never would have signed up for this gig." She held up the hand not holding the flies. "Kidding! Now do I just open this thing, or--"

"Only if you want to go collect the next batch yourself." He lowered the netting around the enclosure, making sure she was watching him as he did so, then pointed out the slot for the container. "Sometimes they're stubborn. Give the box a good whack if they won't come out."

"Can't imagine how you came up with that method," she muttered.

He left her to deal with the feeding, moving on to adjust the ventilation louvers to compensate for the unusual heat of the day. It shouldn't have taken long, but a blur of movement outside caught his eye, drawing his attention away from the pulleys. He stepped up close to the glass for a better look.

It was Henry, tossing a pack into the back of the van.

"Hey, is that Hank?" Kate asked, suddenly far too close for comfort. "Where's he headed?"

He shook his head as Henry climbed into the driver's seat. It was far too early in the day for his weekly appointment--but Henry had been spending a lot more time with Rachel lately than was necessary for his treatments. The van started up, then shot into reverse for the length it took to clear the parking spot. It had barely come to a stop before it zipped forward and out the drive.

He yanked the louvers open, then stalked off towards the fertilizer table on the opposite side of the greenhouse.

"Wow," he heard Kate say. "Somebody _so_ lost his wand where the sun don't shine."

*****

"Here."

A bundle of grasses landed on the desk in front of him. One sniff had him leaping up, his chair crashing to the floor behind him, as he tried to put distance between himself and his downfall.

"So," Henry said calmly. "Not wrong about that, then."

He bared his teeth. He couldn't help himself. "Do you know what this is?"

Henry crossed his arms over his chest. "You know all those books I read when I was going through the change? Well, guess what. HAPs weren't the only furry bipedals in there."

"And those _books_ told you about this?" He shouldn't touch it. He knew better. But his frustration had him snatching it up by its vine-bound tail and shaking the bouquet in Henry's face.

Henry stared back at him, eyes unblinking as if he didn't notice the attack. "It says that your species is like humans. Slow to mature. So your females can't handle carrying an infant more often than every five years. They don't have heat cycles, though. Not like some mammals do."

"They can't. They must nurse." Whether the words brought the memories, or the other way around, he wasn't sure. The soft, fuzzy crown of a tiny head hiding a full breast. Unsteady steps and little arms extending upward, high-pitched shrieks of delight and rounded baby tummies warm in his hand. His people loved children very much. Doted on them, and in that, he had been very much one of his people.

"Right." Henry's voice was mere rain against the window. "Which means the guys get stuck with the five-year Pon Farr. Whatever works, I guess, but man, that's gotta suck."

"It is...uncomfortable," he confessed, still lost somewhere between the past and now, not quite believing that he was having this conversation with Henry.

"And that's what this stuff is for. Clears the ol' schnozz right up, huh?"

The now snapped into focus. "It is not a, not an allergy medication!" He thumped the mate grass against Henry's shoulder. "It, it makes everything sharper. Our senses, yes. And our need."

Henry nodded, imperturbable as a rock in the rapids of his agitation. "And that's why only potential mates offer it up. It's a love drug, dude. I get that."

"Then why...?"

"Why do you think?"

He couldn't help reeling the grass back in, closer to his nose. He'd told Henry that it sharpened the senses, but that was not it, not exactly. Its magic was that it tagged every living scent with an emotion, opening up the world to his nose in ways that were usually beyond his kind. Perhaps it wasn't as good as telepathy, but it was close.

He took another deep whiff--and then raised his head, letting the slight air current in the room bring him Henry's scent.

Fear. Shame. Hope. Impatience. Arousal--no. Lust, so strong that it bent him in half with his own need before he was able to force himself to straighten again.

Love.

He threw the mate grass as hard as he could. Henry flinched at last, though the missile missed him by a good foot. "Leave!" he shouted. "You don't understand what you're asking for!"

Terrible despair rippled through the room. It was followed by soothingly cool determination. Henry nodded once. "Okay," he said. "I ambushed you. I get that." He picked up the grass, then turned towards the door. "You know how to find me."

*****

He could not sleep.

The ache in his body was near unbearable as he pushed himself out of bed and got into the necessary clothing to go out. His steps through the hallways seemed thunderously loud, but it was at the hour of night when everyone but Helen would normally be asleep--and of course, she was not here to worry about him sneaking out of her home like a thief.

It had rained earlier in the evening, leaving oil-splashed puddles behind that reflected the streetlights up into his eyes as he drove. The city was as deserted as it ever got, so he simply squinted as much as he dared and kept his foot light on the gas. The route was one so well known to him that he simply had to make sure that he didn't run into anything. Still, the minutes dragged by, making him question his decision at every stop sign and at each corner he turned.

Then he was there, and it would have been ridiculous to turn back. He pulled the brim of his hat further down his forehead and made his way up the foot-worn stone of the front steps. He was welcome at the back as well, but he sought solace tonight. Not sanctuary.

Wood creaked under his weight as he settled into the pew. The smell of hot candle wax was a balm to his nose, the sharp high notes and the mellower low ones finally chasing away the jumble of living scents that had followed him the whole way here. He bowed his head, resting his head on his hands. Not in prayer as humans did, but to ease the ache behind his eyes as well as to focus his thoughts.

His seed had never taken. It was not unexpected during the first cycle of matings, but as the years passed, it had become more obvious that he was not able to father a little one. No matter the mate, no matter the herbs that he and his mentor tried. The young of the clan were the responsibility of all, the children of all--but with every cycle, the feeling of failure had grown. That sense of inadequacy had driven him out, to explore the human world, and had ultimately led to him being outcast.

Or at least that was what he'd always told himself. That he wasn't good enough for his people, so he had taken himself elsewhere. But perhaps... Perhaps he had been searching, rather than running away.

A warm hand landed on his shoulder. "What brings you here, my brother?"

He raised his head. Father Jensen knelt beside him, wrapped in a worn, green-striped bathrobe that gaped across his chest and middle. The lines in his face were deeper than ever, but his eyes were just as kind as that first night, so long ago.

"To talk," he confessed. "Father, I am so confused."

*****

Light seeped out from under the door to Henry's room. He raised his hand to knock, but the scent of welcome wafted to his nose before he could strike. Even so, it took the last of his courage to turn the knob.

Henry was sitting in bed, blankets askew and with a nest of pillows surrounding him, tablet resting on his upraised knee. He glanced up briefly, then went back to studying whatever was on the screen before him.

"I'm sorry."

Henry tapped the stylus against the screen. "Oh yeah? For what?"

"I've treated you badly these past few days. I have been troubled, and I shouldn't have let that affect you, or my relationship with you."

Henry tossed his tablet to the side, the stylus following without heed of where it landed. He rubbed his fingers across his brow ridges, then dropped his hands, fists landing with a muffled thump against the pillows. "Man, you make it impossible to stay mad at you, you know that?"

He snorted. "I wasn't aware that I should strive for otherwise."

Henry's lips quirked up on one side, then he shook his head. "So. You going to talk to me? Or do I have to get pissed off all over again?"

He sighed. "I'll try. But it's difficult."

"Yeah, I got that. What with the whole hiding out and avoiding me thing. Not to mention the yelling at me thing." Henry stretched out his leg and gave the chair beside his bed a little shove with his toes. "Come on, sit down. You know I hate it when you loom over me like that."

It was not a wise choice. His head was already swimming from being this close to Henry, from being in his room amongst his things. But it was the right choice, as a friend. His knees were reluctant to lower him down, but they bent to his will as much as they were able, just as the rest of his body had these past few days. Henry's eyes were full of sympathy, but his scent was strangely muted. It made him long for the insight of the mate grass.

"Part of me has always thought that I would return to my people one day," he said, forcing the words out before he lost his nerve. "That somehow, I would be able to convince them to take me back."

Henry nodded slowly. "Until the Lazarus virus. Taking the cure."

"That was only the final nail." At the time, it had been so easy to fall into the madness and let it take him, but the thoughts that had left him suicidal made little sense now. He shook his head. "I should never have left in the first place, if I ever wanted to return. The taboos we have are very strict, for good reason. I endangered my people and myself, and was banished for it. For many years the cost of my curiosity felt far too high."

"I'm sorry. I wish I could say that I know what that feels like, but," Henry knocked his knuckles against the bed frame behind him, "this has been my home as long as I can remember."

"In many ways you are lucky." He plucked at the cloth over his knees. "At times I don't know how to feel. It is a strange thing, to be grateful that you can't ever go home again."

Henry cocked his head to the side. "You're saying you're okay with being here? With us?"

He nodded. "You are my family. My chosen family. Even if there was no choice for me to make."

A teeth-baring grin flashed over Henry's face before he remembered his manners and pulled his lips in. "Back atcha, Big Guy."

His heart squirmed within him, moving with pure joy that was impatient to be expressed. He reached out, and Henry met his hand with his own. He returned Henry's squeeze, then made himself untangle their fingers and withdraw. This conversation was far from finished.

"I guess the whole mating urge thing makes the homesickness even worse though, huh?" Henry asked quietly.

He nodded. "In ways, yes. But mostly it is difficult because..."

"Because you need somebody?"

He nodded. "I know how I appear to humans. As an animal. A monster."

Henry shook his head. "You don't look like a monster to me. Never have."

He nodded, his throat too thick to find words.

"So you're saying you haven't...since you left your people?"

He laughed. "No, I am not saying that."

Henry's eyes widened. It surprised him a little, that Henry hadn't suspected the truth all along. But then again, Henry had only come into the powers of his kind recently, and he would not have been aware enough to look for the clues before. "You are not the only one here who can see beyond the surface."

"Wow." Henry dropped his head back. The thunk of his skull meeting the headboard sounded painful, but Henry simply rocked his head side-to-side, apparently uncaring of his physical well-being. "Wow. That's probably more than I should know about Dr. Magnus's sex life."

He whumphed out a breath. "I would not have said anything, but I do not want you to think that I have no other option." That he would not pursue that option while Helen was still in mourning, he kept to himself.

"No other-- Wait." Henry sat up straight, as alert as possible while still in his bed. "You think I offered to have sex with you because I feel sorry for you?"

"No," he said, though the truth was as heavy as iron as he pushed it out of his mouth. "No, I smelled your desire. I cannot doubt that."

"So what's the deal? Is it the guy thing? Because my nose is saying you don't have a problem with that, either."

He huffed. "That is a human prejudice."

"Okay, and?" Henry tucked his feet under him, half-kneeling like he was prepared to launch himself off the bed. "The water torture thing is getting a little old. Wanna try more than a drop of info at a time, maybe?"

"It is not just sex!" He pushed himself to his feet, striding away from the bed until he reached the far wall. He took several deep breaths, then turned around. "We do not have relationships the same way humans do. It--" He shook his head, frustrated. "The cycle lasts at least six months. Sometimes as long as a year."

"Guaranteed sex for up to a year." Henry pursed his lips. "Yeah, you're really down-selling it, there."

He growled.

"Okay, sorry! Inappropriate humor is what I do." Henry climbed off the bed, though at least he kept his distance, standing in front of the chair with his arms crossed. "Are you afraid you're going to hurt me? Because I can tell you, not gonna happen. Not with the HAP."

He almost yelled again--but then he caught the whiff of fear. "Is that what you think?" he asked. "That all abnormal mating is something out of a monster movie?"

Henry shrugged, but his shoulders were so tense the movement barely showed. "I don't know. I haven't tried since I started changing. Maybe you're right to put me off. Maybe I'll be the one to hurt you."

"Henry, no." He was across the room before his mind could second-guess the action, Henry's face cradled in his hands. "Do not think that. There won't be any hurt. For either of us."

"How can you know?" Henry's eyes were wet, and it nearly broke his last shred of control. "Unless you've got a secret HAP lover you never told me about."

He snorted, then smacked Henry on the back of the head. "I know," he said. "I trust you."

Henry licked his lips. "So, hey. Is that a yes?"

He sighed, then stepped back. "I would like it to be. But it isn't that easy." This part was the hardest, but he knew now it was the most necessary. "I can't do this if you are not mine for the entire time. It is nearly unbearable to smell another's scent on my mate."

"I wouldn't. How could you think--" Henry's eyes lit with comprehension. "You never told Dr. Magnus that, did you?"

"Please. You must never tell her of this. It was not her intent to hurt me."

"Oh, man." Henry ran his hand through his hair, tracing the exact route his own hands itched to take. "I kinda don't know what to do with that."

"Do nothing." He sighed. "Do you understand what it would mean to do this? A year with me and no other--and then I will be nothing more than your friend."

Henry shoved a finger into his chest. "You'll always be more than my friend."

He grunted. "That may be, but my body will have no interest in mating."

"Not for another five years."

"Five years is a long time for such things."

Henry opened his mouth, but the glimmer of understanding was in his eyes. "You take the same mate every cycle?"

He shook his head. "Sometimes, sometimes not. It is not easy to explain how the choice is made among my people, and it has no bearing on the two of us. The possessiveness will fade when the cycle does."

Henry nodded slowly. He didn't say the words, but it was obvious that the scenarios were playing out in his head. If Henry found a mate in the off-cycle, then what would happen when the cycle came again? If he found no one, then four years was a long time to go without a sexual companion for one who wanted one.

"You asking for more than a year?" Henry finally asked.

"I am not even asking for that." He shook his head at Henry's frown. "But no, as I said. Many things can happen in five years."

Henry smiled. "Okay, then. So what are we waiting for?"

"And what about Rachel?"

Henry lost the smile, his eyes going hard. The scent of a hunted animal sprang up strong between them. "I don't want to talk about Rachel."

"Uh huh." He nodded. "That is what I thought."

"No, man--" Henry reached out, but he stopped short of landing the touch. "There's nothing between us. And there's never going to be."

"Be sure of that." He turned towards the door. "When you are... Well. As you said. You know how to find me."

*****

He was a third of the way through **The Horse Whisperer** when his door opened and Henry burst through. He stood reflexively, setting the book aside and taking off his glasses so he didn't have to peer over the rims. Henry shut the door behind himself, turned around--and thrust a bundle of fresh mate grass in his direction.

"Here." Henry shuffled forward, until it seemed more awkward to not take the grass. "If you could keep from throwing it at me this time, I'd appreciate it. That's the second time I've spent my day up on a mountain top looking for that stuff."

"You didn't have to do that." His heart thudded at the gesture anyway, anticipating what it meant. He rested his hand on Henry's cheek. "But it is...appreciated."

"You know what? Let's not do the talking thing anymore." Henry lunged upwards, hands landing on his shoulders. He would have taken it for an attack, had he not been accustomed to this very human thing from Helen. The kiss was nice, in the way that it was meant, strengthening the intimacy between him and Henry.

Henry pulled back. He licked his lips, then smiled a little. "That's not really your thing, huh?"

"Our lips do not have the sensitivity that encourages kissing." Struck by an impulse, he ran the tip of his index finger over Henry's bottom lip. Henry shivered in response. "But I have no objection to the practice."

"I want to know what you like."

It was almost too much. Knowing that he could have this, after holding onto his hopes so tightly. Wetness welled up his eyes, but he ignored it, instead drawing Henry in close. Henry's arms were as strong around him as his around Henry's. They stood like that for a long moment, until the certainty of this felt real, until the tension flowed out of his muscles and left him with a great sigh. Henry's grip eased a second later.

He brought his hand up as Henry raised his head, running his fingers over Henry's cheekbones. His brow ridges. Along his temple and through his hair. Henry's eyes drifted shut as he did so, smelling so content that he had to bury his face in the scent patch at the base of Henry's skull, right below his ear.

Henry sucked in a breath.

He pulled back. "You like that?"

"Oh, man." Henry's eyes were still almost fully closed as he smiled up. "I never would have said it was a kink before, but oh, yeah, it's definitely working for me."

"Good." He tugged at Henry's T-shirt. Henry obliged by stripping it off in one quick move, then starting in on his belt buckle. He didn't stop until he was naked.

"Somebody's a little slow today," Henry said, plucking at his shirt. It was a fair statement; his wits felt non-existent, wiped from his mind by the sight of Henry not just naked, but obviously aroused.

For him.

Somehow his body accomplished what his mind could not, hands moving to undress himself as quickly as possible. A howl of joy arose from deep in his throat, and it was echoed by a higher pitched cry from Henry. They tumbled together down to his bed, rolling until Henry was beneath him and he could rub his face all over Henry's body.

Henry let out a breathy, shaky laugh. "Oh, yeah. That so works." His body arched, seeking more, and it was no hardship to give it to him.

"You feel good. Smell better." He indulged himself with a quick flick of his tongue, right below Henry's belly button. "Taste good, too."

"That's-- Ahh, yeah." Henry bucked as he rubbed his face over Henry's groin. "Uh, that's good."

"Mmm, very." He wanted to explore more, to taste, but his own need was overwhelming. He moved back up the bed, lying on his side beside Henry.

"Hey." Henry shifted to face him, hands moving over his chest and waist. "What do you need?"

"Like this," he said, guiding Henry back over on his side, facing away. He snugged himself in tight behind Henry, guiding his hardness between Henry's thighs. "Okay?"

"Yeah, good, great-- Oh, God."

He laughed, very much pleased by the way Henry was responding to being stroked by hand. He pressed his face closer to Henry's neck as they moved together. Henry's smell grew sharper, more musky. Power rippled through the muscles against his chest.

"Don't hold back," he whispered. His own release was nearly upon him. "There is no danger here."

Henry went rigid. His mouth drew up in a snarl, mouth elongating into a snout as fur sprang up along the back of his neck. His form held there, between human and HAP, as he came with a long, guttural cry.

"Henry," he gasped out--and then he came as well. It seemed to last forever, taking his breath away and leaving his head empty of thought. He bit down on the back on Henry's neck as he rode out the blinding pleasure, which got another orgasmic cry from Henry.

It passed. Finally, it passed.

He let go of Henry, releasing mouth and hand both, and rolled away just enough so they both had room to move. Henry didn't take advantage of the space; in fact, after a few shuddering breaths, he rolled closer.

"Holy Tyrannosaurus crap." Henry chuckled. His face was back to its usual shape now, though the wolfiness remained in his scent. "Was that awesome for you? 'Cause I gotta say, that was totally awesome for me."

He snorted. "Me, too. Totally awesome."

"So." Henry shifted, wriggling his shoulders against the bed until he was lying flat, though they were still pressed together all along their sides. "You, uh. Have any regrets?"

He hesitated. His heart still worried, certain that there were unseen perils in the journey they had embarked upon. But Henry's brow was drawn down as he waited for a reply. "No," he said, having no doubts that he would never wish this night away. "No regrets."

Henry smiled. "I used to think about this, you know. Before I even knew if it was possible."

He sighed. "I sometimes had dreams."

"Yeah, well." Henry yawned. "Gonna do a little of that myself right now."

"Mmm. Sleep well." The words were hardly out of his mouth before Henry let out a soft snore. He snorted, and then settled down into a more comfortable position to sleep. He wasn't used to anyone in his bed, but Henry was a perfect fit against his side.

*****

There is warm skin under his face, fur under his hands. He huffs in appreciation. He moves closer, rubbing his face against Henry's, blending their scents together.

A board creeks beside the bed. He looks up, alert, ready to fight--

Helen smiles down at him. "Be well, old friend," she says, touching his cheek with her hand. She draws the blanket farther up over Henry's shoulder, then turns away.

He wakes.

*****

Helen looked up, smiling as he gently set her tea in front of her. "Thank you."

"You're welcome. You need anything else?"

"Actually, yes." She pushed back from the papers she'd been working on. He'd noticed a change in her since she'd returned from Honduras, though it was a subtle one he could not name. But whatever the cause, it left her more present, more aware of what was going on around her, than she had been since Ashley's death. "Do you have a moment? I'd like to talk."

"I have to check on Kate, make sure she's got the noon feedings under control," he said. "But I have a few minutes, yes. What's on your mind?"

Helen picked up her teacup and stood, briefly laying a hand on his arm before she circled around him. It was a relief to know that her touch did not inflame him like it had before. "Come, let's sit."

She patted the couch, waiting until he chose a seat before taking her place opposite him. It worried him, this careful manner that she rarely relied on with him.

"Is something wrong?"

She hesitated. "I had wondered that, myself. I finished the study of the blood I collected from all of you after I returned. It took longer than I intended, but I wanted to be absolutely thorough."

"You found something?"

"Not what I feared, thankfully." She smiled, but a sharp spike of fear reached his nose. She took a deep breath and it receded. "No, but I did find something. Why didn't you tell me, my old friend?"

He sighed. He should have known that he wouldn't be able to hide it from her forever. "I didn't realize at first. It isn't the right time."

She nodded. "We will need to make a more thorough investigation, of course, but I suspect either the virus or the antigen triggered an early onset."

"That was my thought."

He didn't feel the need to add any more, and Helen didn't respond immediately, either. The silence quickly grew awkward between them, and he found himself wanting to leave, or at least wishing for a cup of tea as well, something for him to focus his attention on.

"You seem fine," Helen said at last. "I suspect there's another reason you didn't come to me, other than my absence."

He wasn't sure how to respond, uncertain whether she had guessed at his new relationship, or at his unwillingness to disturb her grief. Indecision held his tongue.

"You don't have to tell me, of course." She took a delicate sip of tea. "But you don't need to fear my judgment, either. I hope you know that."

He snorted. "Did you know that large sections of the abnormal community think you're a telepath?"

That earned him a teeth-baring grin, and he wasn't entirely sure that it was meant in a human way. "Who do you think started those rumors?"

"Of course." He sighed, then shook his head. "I don't know whether he wants you to know. But I am well. Happy."

"Good." Her eyes lightened, so much happiness _for_ him shining out. She leaned forward and squeezed his wrist. "I am so glad. These past months have been trying on all of us. To know that there's a little light out there... Well."

He nodded. "You seem lighter, yourself. Since you returned."

She sighed. "Do I? I suppose that's true." Her eyes went distant. "I had a bit of a reality check, I guess you could say. Put some things into perspective."

He wondered at that. She had told them all that her trip had been unsuccessful, that she hadn't even found the temple. But Helen only kept two kinds of secrets: those of her heart, and those that the world was better off for no one knowing.

"That's good," he said finally. He waited another beat, but she didn't seem to want to share more, so he pushed to his feet. "I should look in on Kate."

"Yes, of course. I have my own work to see to." She stood as well, catching him once more as he turned to leave. "Actually, wait. I had another thought."

"Yes?"

"You and your friend." Her eyes held no deception, but he felt like she was seeing through him, anyway. "Perhaps the two of you could take some time away from here. A bit of a vacation, if you will."

He nodded slowly. "I'll talk to him about it."

"Thank you." Then she took a step closer, stretching upwards to press her cheek against his. "I'll miss you, old friend." She slipped away before he could return the gesture, back to her desk and her papers without another glance.

He picked up her half-empty cup and headed back towards the kitchen. He had a full afternoon ahead: Kate to see to, pharmacy inventory to finish, rounds to make with Will, dinner to prepare--and, if his luck held, an itinerary to plan.

Henry always was saying the waves in Australia were excellent this time of year.

 

END


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